Lost Wings
by WriterAnon95
Summary: Some things are irreplaceable.
1. Chapter 1

Universe: G1  
Rating: R/Mature  
Characters: Megatron, Starscream, Skywarp, Thundercracker  
Warnings: Graphic violence, Major character death  
Notes: Currently Gen fic, no pairings highlighted, will note if changes. The collaborative efforts of Feather_Storm (Feather_Storm (dot) livejournal (dot) com) and WriterAnon95.

* * *

Megatron was fuming. He was always fuming after Prime and his lackeys sent the Decepticons packing, but the army was strangely quiet, simply because the EM field snapping around their leader was... off. Not the same kind of anger that they were used to. Something a little darker, and the way he kept sending speculative sidelong looks at a screeching Starscream didn't help anyone's nerves. There was a heavy weight, like something was going to crackle in the air and start going for their sparks. It wasn't normal. Even the most hardened of cons was trying to act inconspicuous, smaller than they really were, to avoid the optics of their leader looking anywhere near their frame. Why Starscream had either refused to pick up on it, or stand down was any mechs guess.

It was clear to everyone, except Starscream, apparently, that Megatron was different. And not a good different. He was wound up tight, ready to blow- But they figured that better him than them, and why in the world should they even help the one bot who took enough of Megatron's energy to keep them relatively safe after a battle gone badly.

It had been a subdued trek back, none of the usual spiteful hate about the enemy, none of the usual 'I'll shoot such and such in the aft next time'. No one wanted to distract their leader from his thoughts, and see it turned on them. When they finally reached the bottom of the ocean, moving off the lift and into the dark and dank halls of the sunken transport, it was anyone's guess as to how things were going to go. The silence almost a terrifying monster that crept behind Megatron, drinking in his Second's words of spite and disloyalty and growing bigger and more massive with each proclamation. Crowding out the rest of them until even the hardest of the 'cons were unnerved. Their plating clamped tight to their protoforms to keep it from rattling and garnering Megatron's unwanted attentions.

They watched that monster grow until it was a hulking mass, all teeth and claws and even though they all expected something to happen, when Megatron roared and grabbed Starscream they all flinched, some plastering themselves against the condensation covered wall.

"You claim that you can do better, yet every battle you fight in, every time you fly above, out of the range of the PRIME," Megatron spat, claws gripping painfully in his Second's shoulder, "All I hear is Decepticons! Megatron isn't fit to lead you - and then five kliks, five kliks with a grounder on your back, and I hear RETREAT."

Starscream had his seemingly innocent gaze turned on Megatron, ignoring the way the clawtips dug into his armor. Cocking his helm just so to present his neck, a subtle, barely there offering that was as much of a slight as the words that came from his mouth.

"I would never suggest that I could stand against Prime like you, Lord Megatron. No one else could battle the Autobot symbol and take his spark-"

Another roar and Megatron threw the flyer against the wall with a crash, not giving him time to get back on his thrusters before he wrapped a hand around Starscream's neck and lifted him up. Holding him against the wall and off the floor, claws squeezing. Pricking the energon lines that ran from body to processor and watching as thin lines of purple began to run along his claws and drip down to Starscream's cockpit.

"Of course not. However, I do believe that I see what you are doing, and this will be the last time I have to watch my army fall in battle because of a traitor like you."

Starscream clutched the gray wrist that held him aloft, struggling against the bulkhead for purchase. "Please Mighty Megatron! I am no traitor! I am loyal to you and the Decepticon cause!"

A growl and the claw clamped down harder. "Do not lie to me you spineless wretch! The only way that this army, MY ARMY, can be overwhelmed battle after battle is if someone has been eating at the foundation of MY army like a scraplet from the beginning. Who could that be Starscream?"

Starscream was reduced to gurgling protests as the claws tightened around his vocalizer, squeezing any words that might allay Megatron's growing anger and ire with each passing second. Optics fritzing as the energon lines to his processor were crimped until only a trickle passed through them.

"I have watched you, Starscream. Watched you when you knew I was there, and when you were sure I wasn't. I have had optics and audials on you every klick of every cycle that we have been on this planet, and I have noticed something."

Megatron moved close enough to put his helm right in front of Starscream's, his words whispering across the Seeker's face with each exvent. "I have noticed that you will often hide things. Sequestered in that lab of yours, sure you were alone, safe from any prying optics. From me, of course, but also from even your trinemates. I know little of Vos' culture, I have no use for the nonsense you flyers prattle on about, but I do know that Trine does not keep secrets."

He pulled them nasal sensor to nasal sensor, optics narrowed and mouth twisted into a terrifying snarl.

"How long have you been the mole that the Autobots claim not to have? How long have you fed them information from my hands, or snuck those pit spawned Ops mechs in- damning us from the very start to a battle that we can't win! HOW MANY TIMES HAVE YOU SENT US OUT TO BE BUTCHERED!"

Starscream dug furrows into Megatron's arm, trying to wrench out of the hold the Warlord had on his neck, to eek out something in his defense. Thrusters scorching the wall as he scrabbled against it, trying for purchase against the slimy surface. Pulling the arm away the barest microinch, just enough to force crushed vocal cords to push sound out.

"Ma...t...r. P...se..." Too little, too late he had finally realized something was wrong, incredibly so. Megatrons field crashed against his, overpowering and promising... he didn't know if he wanted to try and classify it, dark and violent, like a beast about to start shredding his armor to eat his spark. His own field weak and pleading, the only mode of communication left to him against the creature that held him captive.

Megatron chuckled. A dark sound that grew from something low and dark into full blown laughter, echoing through the room and sending the other cons deeper into their huddles. Coolant tears running down Starscream's face as he felt his processor begin to shut down, the lack of energon hazing his vision and clouding his thoughts.

A clank, and suddenly he was gasping, vents heaving in air and energon lines desperately sending much needed energon back into his processor. The circuits and connections lighting back up in a painful burst of light and sensation that had him clutching his head and curling into a ball. Trying to protect himself from the same happening again.

"Never again, Starscream. You have failed me for the last time. This time I will make sure that there is nothing left of you to betray!"

A roar and Starscream raised his head in time to see Megatron's claws grabbing him, forcing him out of his protective curl and pushing him onto his back, hissing as his wings scraped the ground and howling when strong, cruel pricks of pain dug into his Ailerons, then further in, along the panels and sensors he used for flight and curled until energon flowed. He barely felt the ped on his cockpit until the glass cracked, his still muddled processor shooting warnings at him for just about everything, before it blanked out entirely.

He heard the sound of metal ripping from its foundation, and wires snapping. The sounds of screaming in the background, a wordless mangled mess of too many words at once in voices that he thought he recognized. Some emergency protocol was counting down from 3... 2... 1...

And it caught up, and those howls were his, his and someone else that was too far and too close, but too quiet to make a difference to him.

The ceiling spinning in front of his blurred optics, Megatron's figure becoming clearer and clearer as he focused on the two white objects the Warlord was holding.

Oh Primus. Something clicked, and he knew.

Starscream purged, half processed energon spraying from his mouth and covering him in a sticky, putrid mess. Megatron laughing and waving his wings at him, like they were his own, and he could still see the wires that connected them sparking and the whole torn edge dripping energon and the tips already going gray and-

"A pretty souvenir, don't you think Starscream? I'm going to mount them on my throne, as a lesson to those who think that they can betray-"

A red bolt hit Megatron dead in the chest, the blast making him stumble back a few steps, wings dropping to the ground with a sickening crack. No one else in the room wanted to move, make a sound, but they couldn't help the craning of their necks to stare at the mech that had dared shoot at Lord Megatron-

"I'll kill you!"

Thundercracker was shaking, his plating rattling against his protoform as he kept his null ray trained on Megatron. Mouth twisted into a snarl of uninhibited hatred at what had just been done to his trine mate.

He shot again, bolts flying en masse as he moved toward Starscream. Driving the Warlord back, trying to get some distance between him and his injured trinemate, shots occasionally going wide to push, push- he didn't even really have a plan, the thought to just keep him away from Starscream was too much of a driving force.

Megatron's cannon came online, horribly loud and ominous in the quiet of the nemesis, the fight down to just the two of them, and turned it on Thundercracker. The barrel... almost shook with the energy the warlord was trying to force through, as if he could will it to melt the traitor on the spot. It hit Thundercracker's legs, plating warping and the flyer dropped to the floor as neural relays and hydraulics were burnt and ruined. Char flaking from what had been the tubing that kept his legs supplied with energon, coolant and hydraulic fluid, the ends close to his pelvic plating cauterized from the searing heat. Metal already graying by the time he hit the floor. He barely made out the heavy footfalls of their lord advancing at a deliberately slow pace over his own processor screeching warnings at him, savoring what he must have thought was his ultimate victory over not just one, but two traitors, before it stopped.

A scream and then there was a loud crack. Megatron's chestplating exploding outward. All helms whipping around to see Skywarp behind the Decepticon leader, null ray shaking as he shot and shot and shot into Megatron's spark through his back. Screaming "WHY!" with each discharge, not stopping as the body jerked with each shot, not stopping when the sparklight faded and whisped out. Not stopping even when the body was limp on the floor, his optics blurry with coolant as he continued to pull the trigger, moving his aim to the still smirking face until his weapon ran out of energy, a hollow clicking the only indication he was still trying to fire.

Stumbling over to his injured trinemates. Wrapping an arm around each one protectively, baring his denta at the rousing army; wary and angry at some of those stares, before warping the three of them out of the Nemesis.


	2. Chapter 2

Universe: G1  
Rating: R/Mature  
Characters: Starscream, Skywarp, Thundercracker,** Ratchet**  
Warnings: Graphic violence  
Notes: No pairings highlighted, will note if changes. The collaborative efforts of Feather_Storm and WriterAnon95.

* * *

When Skywarp hit the dirt from his unplanned teleport it was with a crash of bodies. He and Thundercracker held a protective grip on Starscream, trees all around and rolling into one with an unpleasant crunch of metal and wood. It took a minute to really settle, to stop expecting something to hit them next, some shot to be fired, before his processor automatically pinged him their coordinates.

Washington, Tiger Mountain. Off trail, deeper in the mountain, and somewhere the Decepticons would have to comb for them for days. At least he had unconsciously aimed for the safest spot around.

His grip tightened on his Trine before he loosened it, sensor net spread wide as he looked for anyone, anything that could pose a danger to his injured teammates. Thundercracker's helm was lolling, his grip weakening as the damage to his lower half caught up with him and he had to turn his neural network down as low as it would go, just so he wouldn't be lost in pain.

Skywarp carefully lay Starscream down on the ground, grimacing at the mud. It was raining, a steady clink clink against their armor, steam rising slowly from Thundercracker's still heated ped, and Starscream started twitching as it plunked down on them.

Thundercracker shook himself, shaking claws crimping and tying off severed lines and cables as best he was able, Skywarp's claws joining in until they were at the limit of their war necessitated field medic knowledge. He heard Thundercracker send out a distress call to the Autobots but focused on the here and now, something at the back of his processor telling him his trine's well being was the immediate concern, nothing else needed his attention.

Starscream twitched again and again and Skywarp could feel panic though their Trine bond, bubbling up at each plunk of water hitting his armor, even as he tried to curl over their injured Trine leader and protect him from the harmless droplets. Processor screaming at him to protect, protect, even when he wasn't sure what he was protecting Starscream from, or how.

The panic blossoming and blooming into a warbled keen that rose and fell in volume as Starscream pleaded with his invisible adversary. The garbled words interspersed with bursts of static that tore at Skywarp's coding. DEMANDING that he help his Trine, his leader, but left at a loss as he realized there was nothing to fight. Whispering encouragement and comfort close to the thrashing helm in an effort to soothe whatever demons were running rampant over his commander and spark kin. Hands smoothing over twisted and broken metal, petting whatever he could find that was undamaged, trying to take away the pain both mentally and physically that he could feel over their link.

A soothing hand after what he'd been through might be all the difference between complete breakdown, and knowing he wasn't alone.

Thundercracker's claws joined his, both of them pushing away their own worries to try and force those demons away.

A single word, "Hide!" was understandable against the background of static and garbled noise and Skywarp wondered if Starscream even knew what he was trying to hide from. The noise of a huge space worthy engine cutting through the patter of the rain and his processor. He looked at Thundercracker, who only looked back with bleak optics, the pain from his dead lower half starting to shut down his higher functions and leave him running on base coding instinct.

His teleport mod already running through dozens of calculated trajectories for escape as he scrambled up to pull them both again his cockpit.

"No! 'Warp, no. Need their help..." Optics pleading with him to try and understand, stay still, not panic, even as he could see the autobot flyers approaching over the tree lines. Closing in, a couple of minutes, maybe. Then what? There was any number of things that the Autobots would do to a captured trine. Let alone Megatron's Lead-

Skywarp started shaking, the movement rattling his armor over his protoform, claws digging into both Thundercracker and Starscream as they closed involuntarily. His optics zipping back and forth between his Trine and the Autobots, processor running scenarios, calculating their survival if he took them away. If he stayed here.

"TC, I... Megatron."

An understanding look flashed through the blue flyer's optics, a slow moving claw coming up to weakly grasp his black one.

"Please?"

He'd killed Megatron. He was loyal, and he'd killed Megatron. Even if the other 'cons didn't come to kill him, he should kill himself for treachery.

But his coding had turned its focus to the Autobots and he shook even harder. His claws let go of his Trinemates to clutch at his helm, conflicting thoughts turning his processor on itself. Starscream and Thundercracker would offline if they didn't get help. Would die if they didn't get help soon, their flimsy field repairs wouldn't hold for very long, and they had no supplies to do anything other than they had. They had no available source of energon either, and Starscream's wounds dripped a continuous, glowing stain to mix with the forest mud. They'd be lucky if he survived another hour without a medic.

The autobot flyers, three of them anyway, were cautiously descending, two other mechs hanging on, and Skywarp had been in enough battles, shot enough bots, to recognize the red and white medic that usually handled repairs on the field.

Another Aerial, he didn't remember their names, had his blaster out, trained on him as they landed. Ratchet and the other grounder rushing over to his Trine, the helicopter and other flyer pulling out their own guns to guard the medic's backs if needed. No one was firing, and the medics were at their side before he could try and think about taking out his null ray.

"What happened?"

He just stared at first. Processor hearing the question but not hearing the question. Optics hazed as he felt his coding recognize 'medic' and begin to stand down. A thousand other thoughts rushing back into his rapidly returning coherent thought as he stood there. Knee joints buckling and nearly failing from the feelings of relief and horror that simultaneously coursed through him.

White noise filled his audios as he heard Thundercracker croak out "Megatron." Not, Megatron did this. Not, Megatron was dead. Just Megatron; a name, a cruel reminder. Circuits shorting from the sheer quantity of data that was trying to force its way through, all the same thought. Multiplying and filling his processor until he didn't see Ratchet look at him sharply, optics concerned as he swayed. Mouth opening in words that he couldn't hear and barely noticed, a hand reaching out, grabbing him by the shoulder vent and shaking him.

Megatron. Megatron Megatron MegatronMegatronMegatron.

Dead. He'd killed him. The leader of the Decepticons, the only mech other than his Trine that he'd ever been loyal to. The only other mech to have his respect. The only mech that he WILLINGLY served. Killed for. Fought for.

He thought it was his own voice... The words 'Megatron' and 'dead', 'I killed him' and 'protect' flowing out in a continuous stream. His claws clutching his helm, digging furrows into the metal as he heard himself scream those words. Finally dropping to his knee joints, mud spattering him, and scratching himself until he felt energon drip from the lines he'd made. The mech shaking him nothing but a far away sensation, his Trine coding again buried deep and silent.

Vaguely he felt Thundercracker push on their bond, trying to get through to him, but when he looked up all he could see was Megatron's dead body. Face and chest nothing more than smoking holes as he lay on the Nemesis' floor.

It was too much. He staggered to his feet, throwing off the mech that had a hand on him, ignoring the way all the guns whipped to point at him and screamed. Hurt and confusion raw and visceral in the mud and rain. Teleport gate pulling him in any direction, away, and he engaged it without even a second thought. Warping in a flash of purple light, away from his Trine. Away from the Autobots.

Thundercracker's mouth was open, his optics flashing hurt and anger as he lay there. Skywarp had left them, had left the Trine. Gone without even a backward glance towards them, not even a burst of emotion through the bond.

Ratchet waved off Silverbolt's hand, climbing to his pedes with a guarded look. Moving back to Thundercracker and giving directions to the Aerials and Blades, getting them up into Skyfire as quickly as possible. They needed to get back to the Ark, before they lost another mech.

ooooooOOOOOoooooo

Starscream came online in portions. His deep defrag pinging complete and engaging a medically induced hard reboot of all his systems. Processor pinging each one as they sent status reports back.

Hydraulic fluid, coolant and Energon levels all registered as full, something that hadn't happened in a long, long time. Neural net missing some of his flight sensory information, and he tried to ping for information only to get an error message. Pinging again to get the same result.

He searched through his neural pathways manually, looking for a block or bit of code that had escaped, but there was nothing. Literally, nothing. Almost as if there was a blank spot where it should be.

His optics force booted and he sat up, gyros spinning as he tried to get his balance on the...

Where was he?

Hook didn't have medberths, he had makeshift tables made out of welded metal, nothing with, was this foam?

A wild glance told him that the walls were orange, that he was in a silent, private room, not even the monitors that were hooked up to him making any noise.

The Ark. Why was he in the Ark's medbay?

Everything looked hazy, the edges blurry even when he tried to focus on them. Some sort of sedative, then. Or pain relief- again, something he didn't see much of on the Nemesis. He looked down to see his arm, he was pretty sure that was his arm, without his nullray. The other arm bare as well and he scrolled through the system checks to find that weapons were offline and locked down.

Starscream reeled, claws clutching the edge of the medberth. The automatic pings to his flight system coming back reading errors each time, like his Tcog had been disabled, optics shifting back and forth as he remembered pain, and flashes from a cannon. Reaching up to touch his neck and finding it undamaged, even though he was sure he remembered-

Megatron. He remembered Megatron. Holding him against the wall? The floor...

He covered his optics.

It didn't help, sound assaulted him in the back of his processor; Megatron accusing him of being a spineless wretch. Megatron looming, yelling, anger making him seem twice his usual imposing size, spitting accusations, he was a spy, he was a mole, he had been eating at the foundation of the mighty Decepticon army-

Sound and images merged, breaking through the haze in his processor, something not even the Autobot sedatives could keep him from remembering.

He'd been curled up in a ball, his vocalizer had been spitting static- he'd realized much too late that something had been off, but he hadn't expected that. Megatron usually would have sneered at him, made a grandiose speech about cowards and their place, and his spark pulsed erratically, trying to convince him that that was what happened, because the truth was so much worse than the cost of his pride. He would have-

No, he wouldn't have. Panic welling, claws ripping holes in the foam of the berth, the truth was, he wouldn't have. NEITHER of them would have. Even if he had kept his mouth shut, Megatron wouldn't have relented. If it had been a day. A week. A vorn. The warlord had snapped, looked for the closest thing to explain his failures other than the fact that HE was a failure, and that thing had been Starscream.

Numbers and solutions and NOTHING. Even if he'd seen it coming, how would he have planned his way out of it? He tried to stand, motor functions still sluggish and caught himself against the berth, something very, very critical not hitting the edge like it should have.

Megatron had pushed him down, a ped on his cockpit. He in-vented, trying to calm his panicking systems, because this could still be a mist- no, it wasn't a mistake. Panic panic panic welling up at the fact that something hadn't rubbed against the berth, something important that he needed, and Megatron had grabbed his wings, grinning and gloating and-

Something had ripped, something metalic had made the worst screeching noise, amongst screaming voices while he was laying on the cold floor of the Nemesis. Shuttering his optics, he sent a desperate ping to his T-cog, getting a functional ping back.

HIs vocalizer screeched with feedback as he wailed. Clawing for his back, trying to grab his wings and passing through air to his back, where he could feel the newly welded edges of what was left of his wings, sensors that SHOULD have been there were gone, his wings, GONE.

The panic rose in waves and he flung himself away from the berth, overbalanced, missing the usual weight on shoulders. Legs wobbling and falling to the floor when his gyroscope couldn't tell up from down. Crawling to the wall and hauling himself upright, looking for something, anything reflective in the room.

There! Starscream moved over to the small mirror attached to the wall, forcing his peds to turn, optics offlining in one last desperate plea that no, when he onlined them again he would see-

Nothing. No wings. Twisted metal, welds. A barely there remembrance of his beautiful white panels. Like they'd never existed.

He collapsed to the floor, the door opening and Ratchet rushing in as he tried to rip past his cockpit into his chest cavity.

Tried to rip out his spark.

Ignored the screaming mechs running into the room. Tried to shake the servos off his arm, jerking and clawing out when something sharp jabbed into his neck.

His own voice the last thing he heard before he fell again into darkness.

"My wings..."


	3. Chapter 3

Universe: G1  
Rating: R/Mature  
Characters: Starscream, Thundercracker, Ratchet, Optimus Prime, Bluestreak  
Warnings: Graphic violence  
Notes: No pairings highlighted, will note if changes. The collaborative efforts of Feather_Storm and WriterAnon95.

* * *

Thundercracker onlined his optics, his system sluggish after the in depth scans they'd performed on his processor, making sure that he was telling the truth, and that there wasn't some sleeper coding waiting to blow up in their faces. Making sure that this whole mess wasn't a trap, like he'd even be able to endanger Starscream like that on purpose.

Jazz was particularly... thorough in that regard. The Special Operations Commander had dug his way through Thundercracker's coding with no regard to privacy or care to how painful smashing through his innermost firewalls had been. At least the mech had been thoughtful enough to leave patches as he worked his way back out to keep his systems from crashing, more apologetic on the way out, simply because Thundercracker really wasn't hiding anything.

It must have been a new experience for the ops mech when it came to Decepticon prisoners. Even ones that came willingly had secrets they kept to themselves. Thundercracker lay everything bare, nothing hidden. His life, his Trine, was at stake, and he had no loyalty to the dead. Compared to that, his current situation was a minor inconvenience, one that he'd gladly bear as long as he had to.

He looked down his frame, optics catching the newly repaired armor and internals, every bit as shiny smooth and good as new, by their standards. He hadn't been this well repaired in near a millennia, the Decepticons had neither the resources or talent to repair their army to even half these standards, in ANY amount of time. The only problem was that the medic had been duty bound to prevent risks to the rest of the army and stop short of completely connecting the relays. Thundercracker was in no pain, but he was unable to so much as walk to the edge of the cell.

A thought wormed its way to the front of his processor, sardonically proclaiming that Skywarp would find his new, shiny finish hilarious. The rest of his thoughts suddenly turning to the black and purple Seeker with a sharp stab of pain through his spark.

_"Do you know where Skywarp is?"_

_Thundercracker shook his head, shock still leaving him almost numb enough not to feel the stab of pain that came with hearing the name, optics shuttering as he answered._

_"No. I don't know where he is."_

He didn't know where Skywarp was and it making his coding and his processor ache with want to find him, the only member of their trine unaccounted for. Confirm that he was at least safe, not damaged. Thundercracker pressed a claw to his cockpit, as if it could ease the pain that wound through him. Trying to understand, to see things from Skywarp's point of view. Remembering how his trine mate had shrieked and broken down in the woods, howling Megatron's name. They'd all known how loyal to Megatron he was, and it was something that they'd teased him about back when they'd first Trined. Sharing a bit of laughter to help solidify their newly activated coding through each other.

Skywarp was... had been... he didn't know what tense to use even. Things still too fresh, too raw, for his processor to make sense of what his spark was warring against. His emotions were too freshly clawed through, felt like someone had taken a null ray to them, and hurt was not logical, hurt was not something his mind could force him to make sense of when it was still this deep.

He'd left them. Left them injured in the arms of the Autobots and had run away. Hadn't even looked back, not even when Thundercracker was beating through their Trine bond, crying out through their link, trying to reach through to whatever frazzled state of mind Warp was in, try and help, understand, call him back, anything.

And damn him, he'd gone anyway. Hadn't even tried to contact him since, and by Primus Thundercracker didn't CARE who could see him down here. He'd simultaneously lost Starscream, Skywarp and Megatron, gone, in less than a planetary rotation. No more position at the top of the food chain, no more huddled comfort piles after a battle gone badly, no more Skywarp popping out of nowhere to clock him on the back of the helm and run. LETTING Thundercracker catch him because it was fun, because it kept their coding calm. Starscream drawing Megatron's attention so that he wouldn't turn on the rest of the Trine.

Coolant slid down his faceplates, along his cheek arches and down his chin, and he didn't bother trying to wipe them away, letting them drip to his cockpit and between seams. Ignoring the camera that zoomed in on him, ignoring the guard stationed outside his cell, who was in return trying to ignore the fact that one of Megatron's top Lieutenants was openly expressing such vulnerability.

He ignored the sound of the door opening, but the guard's noisy salute and "Sir!" had him unshuttering his optics to see Optimus Prime and Ratchet walking toward him. The energon bars flickering off before the Prime and the medic who had repaired him walked forward, the white and red mech wasting no time to give the Prime right of way. Between the two of them, Optimus should have been more imposing, but the medic had an air about him that demanded respect. Reconnecting the relays to his legs with deft hands and professional touches.

"We have reviewed the information you have graciously provided us, Thundercracker, and I would like to express our thanks to you on behalf of the Autobots. It will most certainly help us gain the upper hand, and offer us the unique opportunity to reach out to those who wish our help."

Thundercracker looked at the Prime, making no move to wipe his still wet face, nor acting like the tears were there in the first place.

"There is nothing I would not have offered to see my Trine safe from harm. Not even Unicron himself could keep me from trying."

The Prime's look was not unkind, and he placed a comforting servo on Thundercracker's shoulder, "Many in your position might have looked the other way, and it takes commitment, courage and true care for those around you to put yourself in harms way when the time comes. Your trine is lucky to have you amongst them, and Starscream will be lucky to have that support when he awakens."

"I think you would have served under our cause with the same dedication, and it pains me that only at such a dire time I am able to offer you asylum. But I offer you the chance to put down your arms and live amongst us in peace, or to take up arms at your own discretion. While it is my hope that the rest of the decepticon faction will follow the same path, I would not ask you to sacrifice anything more than you have already lost."

Feeling had returned to his peds, but he sat almost uncomfortably under the onslaught of a Prime in one of his inspirational speeches, and the worst part was the he knew Optimus meant every word. The autobot leader caring and forgiving, a conflict with the leader they'd followed, something that made his pump stutter painfully again.

"Quarters are being prepared for you in the officers wing, where you will be allowed to move into soon; my hope is that Starscream will join you shortly." A slight pull at the Prime's mouth, a slight frown; "which leads me to another matter entirely..."

Thundercracker fought a cringe. He knew exactly what the Prime wanted to talk about.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Bluestreak cautiously opened the door to the medbay, scanning on his lowest setting to avoid setting off any of the alarms. Ratchet had left to see the Prime some time ago, leaving the occupant of the medical berth in the emergency room alone. Prowl had taken them aside earlier and quietly informed both him and Smokescreen of the whole situation out of a sense of obligation, a need to warn them about what they were going to see, and Bluestreak had trembled in sympathy.

_Starscream had had his wings ripped, shredded like they were nothing more than a sheet of parchment, from his back. Ratchet, gruff as he could be, was not unkind, and his optics lightened in pain as he had to admit that he was going to fail the trine members in their care this time. "As a Seeker, I'm sure you know what happens when a flyer's wings are mangled enough that we can't even find them."_

Another one. Another one of them. It brought back memory files and sensory packets that he tried and tried to bury cycle after cycle, each one clawing at his now incomplete coding as he moved forward. Looking around to see the one closed door at the back of the bay, and making his way over as quietly as possible.

He heard ragged vents coming from the room and pressed closer, audio receivers picking up half formed words and thoughts that made him clutch his twitching hands to his chassis. Words trying to bubble up and out, release the panic into a stream of nonsense that could distract the growing ache, but he grit his denta and kept it bottled up.

_"You lot are a specialized breed. You're compact, made for speed, and a good portion of Vos would barely deign look at a grounder, even a medic that wanted to learn more about their structure. There are intricate sensors, specialized packets of code for each function your wings have to provide for safe flight." Thundercracker nodded numbly, servos folded over his knees and scratching into the newly repaired armor, leaving gouges in what had been smooth, delicate plating._

_"I know." He swallowed, shuttering his optics._

"Please! No... wings..."

The door opened to Prowl's code and he slid inside, mouth clamped shut against his own pleading and begging, to see Starscream straining in the medical restraints that bound him to the berth.

"I'm not.. Never! Loyal... PLEASE NO!"

_The Prime's voice was eternally gentle, "Even if we had the resources to replace them entirely, I'm afraid that even Ratchet-" he broke off at the scowl on the medics face, the look self-loathing and blaming no bot but himself for it._

_"I know." He repeated again, waiting to hear the next part. What their options were. They'd be laid out in front of him like an assembly line, and because this was his trine mate, because he knew Starscream better than the bots in front of him, he would have to try and decide which option was most likely to help, in any way possible._

Gray hands shook as they reached out, smoothing over the repaired cockpit. Memorizing each and every dip and crevice of the flight form, coding turning from a screaming error into just a warning. His systems trying to bring long gone thrusters online, trying to flex ailerons and adjust to the atmospheric pressures that he could no longer sense properly. The commands failing at every turn but still persisting, dredging up memories and causing a keen to slip from his mouth.

_"For now, we are able to provide him with new sensory panels... "door" wings, as a few of our crew have, or winglets that Wheeljack himself has been tampering with." That was it? Those few options to replace something life shattering? He caught himself before he could scream at them, anger pulsing hard and fast again, but bit his glossa at the pained looks of both mechs in front of him._

_... 'A few of our crew have' the words repeated in the back of his processor, broke through the anger._

Starscream jolted, optics flickering online, and he stared at the ceiling, venting hard.

There were hands on his cockpit.

There were hands on his cockpit.

His struggles began anew. Curses and pleads pouring from his vocalizer as he begged for mercy, screamed his defiance, and cursed Primus' name all in one vent. The words not stopping until a hand clamped over his mouth and the Autobot gunner came into his immediate field of vision.

"I.. I'm not going to hurt you! Just, I just..."

Starscream narrowed his optical shutters, glaring, denta bared and pressed against the gray hand with enough force to do some damage if he decided to bite. He twisted his helm, spitting static and knocking it off his mouth.

_"What do you mean, a few of your crew?" He demanded instead, voice starting to rasp against the emotional whiplash he was going through._

"Get out Autobot! I don't need your sympathy OR your misguided pity!"

Bluestreak pulled back, wringing his hands, blurting out the first thing that came to his fragmented processor.

"I just know! I know how it feels!"

_This was not an enemy, Optimus reminded himself. It wasn't a secret amongst them, but the mechs didn't go around broadcasting, hating the pitying glances, or cold comfort from mechs that really didn't understand. Stasrcream was not alone, and Thundercracker needed to know that, needed to know that this wasn't the end all of his trine member so he could help them save Starscream. "We have three fallen fliers amongst our ranks, Thundercracker, sad as I am to admit. You call them fallen, but they have long since gone by the term Praxian."_

The silence stretched on, Starscream's mouth open as he stared at Bluestreak.


	4. Chapter 4

Universe: G1  
Rating: R/Mature  
Characters: Starscream, Bluestreak, Skywarp  
Warnings: -  
Notes: No pairings highlighted, will note if changes. The collaborative efforts of Feather_Storm and WriterAnon95.

* * *

An autobot flier. Well, they had those blasted Aerialbots now, but the... Praxian? in front of him looked nothing like a Seeker. Bulky armor, shoulder rockets, odd sensory panels on his back that seemed to flicker at the oddest movement- he was built to take damage, run on the front lines.

That was not the lithe, streamlined structure of a Vosnian Seeker. A heavy bumper instead of a smooth cockpit. Bulky peds that looked like they'd taken vorns of damage, even painted over, instead of their slimmer, lighter peds with elegant thrusters and higher heels.

Absolutely nothing to suggest that this Autobot GROUNDER was telling the truth.

"There is no way that any of you bumbling idiots could have ever been a Seeker. For many reasons other than the obvious in front of me!"

Bluestreak shrank back just a little, before his expression hardened and he moved back into Starscream's face. He might have been a grounded mech now, but he had been a proud, airborne Vosnian once, and he would be pit bound before another mech ever made him forget it!

"Don't think that just because I chose to live, to survive, that I am any less than your other subjects, Air Commander."

The tone had the proper glyphs of respect, and for a klick Starscream froze. His subjects? He hadn't had subjects in thousands of vorn. Not since Vos had fallen and he'd taken the mantle of Megatron's Second in Command.

"And besides, not every seeker aligned with Megatron, sir."

"Every loyal seeker I know of followed me."

"Loyalty is only something you have towards those who keep you safe, living. We have no loyalty to those who would see us dead."

Starscream shifted in his binds again, like he could break free and wring the neck of the lying grounder. "What in the name of- I protected each of my wingmates by taking them to Megatron! I never tried to-"

A look of almost hatred came over the gunner's face. So out of character that it twisted his expression into something almost terrifying. "It isn't what you TRIED to do! Not even what you THOUGHT was right! We suffered because of Megatron, because we were no longer considered worthy of resources, of repair!"

"I heard no such thing, and my Seekers reported to me, groundpounder! I know that there were casualties, but those were honorable deaths in battle!" He'd seen enough of his kin shot down by autobots, like the one in front of him, to know, to try and tally in his processor how many good Seekers were lost for the cause.

Bluestreak snorted. "Honorable. Really and truly the leader of Vos didn't know what happened under his own thrusters. We were buried alive. Sold as parts with our sparks still pulsing within our frames. We were looked at and pitied! A flyer who couldn't fly! Less than worthless!"

It was absurd! How dare this lowly autobot claim that he wouldn't know of such atrocities under his own nasal ridge! "Lies! I would have known; I was always loyal to Megatron, but I looked out for the wellbeing of my kin before all else!"

A hysterical laugh started to bubble out of Bluestreak. His hands coming up to cradle his helm and the sound echoed off the walls of the room, creating a processor shuddering noise that seemed not to end. "Wellbeing? Wellbeing! Sure, LORD COMMANDER, I believe that! Especially when my Trine was crushed! Crushed in the destruction of Praxus, when we'd been ordered there on a patrol. Crushed and then when we pleaded for help! PLEADED! We were thrown by the wayside, left to DIE in the rubble that we had followed you to destroy!"

Starscream shuttered his optics, wishing he could cut off feed to his auios. The words ate at him, something at the back of his processor trying to break free and analyse the words, connect dots that he hadn't seen, didn't think he would see, didn't want to see. Vos had been a powerful territory, and his seekers had been a prominent part of the decepticon cause; having the advantage of flight had been enough for Megatron to assure their safety.

A wingless flier was a grounded mech. A grounded mech was still... useful, and he knew Megatron. Even as a shield, they would have had use. He onlined his optics, glaring at the autobot who stared back with anger in his optics and whispered, "Prove it. Even grounded, Megatron would need foot soldiers. Prove that he would scrap something of use!"

A hardline cable zinged out so fast that it burned the spindle, hovering in front of Starscream like a taunt and a promise rolled into one.

"You take the chance. I'll prove you didn't know, or perhaps just didn't care, what happened to us 'fallen'."

Starscream's optics widened before he could catch himself, before returning to their natural state of being; glaring, filled with his usual self-importance. "You think I would trust an enemy in my systems?"

Bluestreak's moue of disdain was obvious even as his hardline cable slowly retracted. Folded arms clamped down tight under his bumper. "Should have known you'd be too much of a coward."

Starscream's head whipped to the side and stared at the grounded so fast he felt his helm spin. "Coward? A lowly groundpounder wants to link to my systems, MY systems, the Decepticon Second in Command! How do I know you aren't an assassin, or a bot with a vendetta against me? I've shot down hundreds of you worthless pieces of scrap!"

"Believe me Starscream. If we'd wanted you dead, you would be. Thundercracker was smart enough to barter your safety and his own with information. I highly doubt it hasn't crossed your processor that you've already been swept. What could I, a lowly groundpounder, do inside your systems? A Seeker's systems are specialized, aren't they? Would I even know what I was looking at?" His cable hovered in front of him.

Taunting. It was a taunt, an offer of absolution, proof that the autobot was lying, but at the consequence of admitting that his resolve about the cause, his dedication to his people, had been undermined. If he took that cable, he admitted that he let the autobot get to him, made him question everything he knew, and that he was afraid, afraid that he'd failed the other Seekers of Vos.

...And if it proved the autobot right, he didn't know if he could survive losing his wings, and live with the fact that he'd sentenced uncounted Seekers to that kind of fate in the same orn.

"No."

A tiny bit of respect came back into the Autobot's optics. "The offer will stay open, Starscream. For that, and to share flight recalls. Primus knows you'll need it."

He shook himself, cable seating itself back in the housing and panel clicking closed, and turned to walk out the door. Doorwings fluttering in a calculated, precise manner that Starscream refused to recognize as the sign of a respectful goodbye.

oooooOOOOOooooo

Skywarp was huddled in a tiny, hole in the wall, cave that was once again rapidly turning to mud. He was coated in the mess, from helm to thrusters, and was sitting, arms draped over his knees and helm downturned as it dripped from the ceiling. If he stood up, walked maybe six steps, he could be in the deluge and try and let it clear most of the wet earth from his armor, but he couldn't muster the sense to care.

It was penance, something he felt was more than justified for his actions. He would sit here forever if that was what it took, except...

Starscream. Thundercracker. They were still in Autobot hold, and right now he DIDN'T know if they were safe, or stuck in the brig or whatnot. Hell, they could be being tortured and he wasn't even close!

Well, Autobots didn't torture.

He thought they didn't torture...

...

Except for that black and white, the one who always hacked into the Nemesis. Or the one that could turn invisible, he was Towers, and they weren't known for being nice. Or even that little one, who could fit into the vents as easily as any of Soundwave's cassettes. Rumble had returned from a run in once with a missing optic, so the minibot had to be vicious when provoked.

And who knows? The Prime was nice enough, or acted like it, so if those bots had free reign to break into the Nemesis and wreak havoc like that, what did they do under their own Prime's nose?

Did they sneak into the brig in middle of the night cycle, did the Security Director turn the other optic, or did they just know where the cameras were? Was somebot either hacking or slicing up Thundercracker or Starscream without anyone else knowing about it as he sat in his pathetic hidey-hole? They had been Meg... they had been the elite of the elite, and had taken the sparks of countless bots. He didn't imagine there was one on the Ark that hadn't lost a friend to a Seeker and would jump at the chance to exact some sort of revenge.

His Trine coding kept pinging him, sending him reminders and nudges to find them, make sure that they were alright and Skywarp ruthlessly pushed it back, still wallowing in his own mess.

"I shouldn't have done it."

Done what though? He shouldn't have killed Megatron? Then his own Trine would have been dead, and he'd probably had followed soon after. Shouldn't have left his Trine to the Autobots? Well, he didn't remember a whole lot about that, actually. Just a flash of searing hurt down their link and his own processor telling him that he had to get out, now!

He hadn't tried to reach either of his trinemates through their bond either, something that hurt less than it should have.

Stupid Starscream. If he'd just let it go! Realized that Megatron was the ONLY leader that would ever lead the Decepticons and just followed orders, they wouldn't be in this mess!

Dimly, he heard the sound of an engine, one that far exceeded human building capacity, and groaned. Autobot or Decepticon? Did it even matter at this point? He tried pushing himself up, only serving to shove himself further into the muck and cursed. Whoever that was, he hoped that they would leave him alone, or barring that, that they'd be enough of a distraction to keep his code at bay.


End file.
